


the soundtrack to this love is shania twain (thanks, ma)

by alanxna, clairelutra



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Burn, Weddings & Events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanxna/pseuds/alanxna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: Daine works for her family's high-end floral business, Numair's on the eternal invite list for the high-profile events they're hired to decorate, and the burn is slow, but morestuck in the bread warmerslow thanwet campfireslow.
Relationships: Numair Salmalín/Veralidaine Sarrasri
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written to appease my phone which asks me every day at 5pm on the dot if i've posted anything this week. may have weekly updates. may not have weekly updates. promises are for the honorable.
> 
> do i know anything about being a florist? no. do i know the first thing about flowers? also no. if there are any florists that read this and cringe: a) you have my sincerest apologies, and b) tell me where and how i've fucked up and i will love you until the end of time.

She was sitting on top of a ladder, humming _you can betcha by the time I say go, you'll never say no_ while she tweaked the final additions to the wedding arch when she first met him.

The first thing he said to her was, "...Isn't this child labor?"

He was a well-built man, graceful, tall, with an olive tan and sensitive face, dressed in dark slacks and a loose white v-neck shirt. There were ruby drops dangling from his earlobes, and his hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. His voice, topic aside, was warm. Gentle. Nice to listen to.

Daine nudged the bill of her Snowsdale Floral baseball cap up. "I'm fifteen, sir," she said blandly.

(Which was what she'd been answering questions like this with for the past two and a half years, and it was a shock to remember that _I'm fifteen_ was actually _true_ now.)

The man pursed his lips for a second, then accepted her at her word. He opened his mouth to say something else, and then a voice rang out from the other side of the venue— _"Numair? Numair! Get over here!"_

He quirked his eyebrows at her and smiled apologetically—he had a nice smile, too—then headed away in the direction in long strides.

 _Very_ long strides.

That was far and away the tallest man she'd ever seen.

From the other side of the venue came a sharp, _"Daine! Are you done?"_

"Just about!" she shouted back, hastily positioned the last three roses, and wriggled off the ladder.


	2. Chapter 2

"Now this is definitely child labor."

The young florist he'd met last week was sitting behind the counter of the charming little brick-and-mortar flower shop called Snowsdale Floral. Numair couldn't see her hands, but they'd been moving fast and there was a collection of immaculate wreaths next to her, so he could do the math.

She flashed him a wry smile, a dimple appearing in one fair cheek while her blue-grey eyes danced. Her name tag read _DAINE_ in blocky script. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"I've seen you setting up and doing adjustments at both a wedding and a fundraiser now, both on school days," he said, unable to stay entirely stern in the face of that smile, "and those—" He nodded to her collection of wreathes. "—didn't just pop up out of nowhere. I'd bet the arrangements at those events didn't either."

The look on her face told him that she knew exactly what he meant, agreed entirely, and was _not_ about to bring it up with her employer.

"Are they at least paying you overtime?"

"I wish," she grumbled. Her hands, which had paused when he started talking, resumed their activity, producing a wreath to set next to the others and deftly gathering the materials for another.

"Undercompensated child labor, no less!" he said, leaning back. Instinct (the lack of defensiveness, the healthy color of her skin, the aura of mildly annoyed ease) told him that she wasn't in any great danger, so he was comfortable with teasing. He wondered idly if she was one of those students that would do just about anything to get out of going to school, or if she had other reasons to be working the early afternoon shift on a Friday.

She paused again to look up and fix him with possibly the blandest expression he'd ever seen. _"Of course_ I'm being adequately compensated, sir." The corner of her mouth hooked in another smile. "Ma's taking me to the movies later."

That startled a laugh out of him, and she grinned outright.

(It explained a few things, too; she did resemble the head florist Alanna had been conferring with during the fundraiser setup, now that he was thinking about it. Their coloring and builds were different enough that he'd missed it at a glance, but the shape of their eyes and nose were a match—ditto the smile and easy-going good humor, though it came in different forms between them.)

"What are you seeing?" he wondered, wandering over to inspect the arrangements on display. He'd come to put in a custom order, but maybe he'd find something that suited him among the racks.

"Dunno yet," she said. "We're going to the dollar theater, and you never know what's going to be playing."

"The one in the Patten District?" he checked. He didn't know of any other, but it was a moderately-sized city.

"You... know of it?" She sounded bemused.

"Yeah." He made a face in the privacy of his flower inspection. Alanna's kids were always eager to behave for a chance to go again. Thom and Alan enjoyed it a normal amount, but it was _hell_ to try to keep track of Aly there with how excited she got. "If they're still showing The Lego Movie, that one was good. I think I saw Moana on the list, too. That's always worth a rewatch."

She didn't answer immediately, and he found a bouquet that would look nice on his kitchen table, if not something he really wanted to take to an upset family friend.

He returned to the counter with it to find Daine looking at him like he'd become a particularly bewildering alien and she wasn't particularly happy about it.

"You've _been_ to it?" she demanded, greenery dangling from her fingertips.

"My niece and nephews love it," he explained, trying not to laugh. She looked downright _offended_ by his knowledge. He showed her the daffodil-puschkinia arrangement. "Could I get this, please?"

"Oh—yes, of course," she said, and put down her wreath to ring him up.

"Also, I'd like to put in an order," he added, pulling out his wallet. "I have an _occasion for flora_ on the fourth."

The words elicited the disgusted look he was aiming for, but it caved to a badly suppressed smile after a second or two. She fetched a notepad from under the counter with a dry, "Yessir."

And with that, he had a promise of a gift that would hopefully be substantially expensive enough to soothe even Fazia Iliniat, a centerpiece for his table, and a day that had been vastly improved with the addition of a few smiles.


End file.
